Harry, the House Elf
by SnowWhiteOwl
Summary: Harry has always thought that he was a normal boy. Then Hagrid came and told him that he was a wizard. But that can't be right, can it? When he learns about House Elves, though, Harry is sure that he has finally discovered what he really is. And surely working at Hogwarts will be nicer than staying with the Dursleys...?
1. From Human to House Elf

_I don't own Harry Potter (but I will buy him once I have enough money)_

_Well, here it is - the story I have started working on in December but then interrupted for "Orphan Child". I don't yet know how often I will post a new chapter for this one (or Orphan Child, for that matter), it depends on my mood. Sometimes, I prefer writing something more light-hearted while other times, I want to write hurt/comfort fics. I figured it would be best just to start posting this one so that I can choose more freely what to write.  
I had a difficult time deciding what genre to choose when posting this story, and I might even change it in the future. I really want this to be a humourous fiction, but I don't know whether I'm any good at it. Sometimes, my humour can be rather dark. The adjective which probably describes the story best is 'bitter-sweet'. There will be a little bit adventure and is there any Harry Potter fanfic that doesn't have fantasy elements? I'm not yet sure about family and friendship, but I am sure that there will be no romance or angst. _

_I'm always happy about reviews._

_I'm not a native speaker of English, so please excuse my mistakes._

* * *

**From Human to House Elf**

#

Harry Potter had always thought that he was human. An inferior human, sure, but still.

After all, Harry looked just like all the other kids at school. He had a head with two ears and eyes, a nose and a mouth, and even his body looked exactly like those of the other boys (as far as he could tell, anyway). He could even talk to them! Not that he did this very often, mind you, he had long since learned that staying silent usually was the better option.

Additionally, the teachers had told them that every child had to go to school and that you always had to behave and do what your parents told you. This was, actually, one of the reasons that Harry was quite sure that he was just like the other kids. The Dursleys were quite adamant about Harry obeying them unquestioningly. So if all parents were like his relatives, Harry was just a normal child and therefore human. Of course, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon weren't his parents, but Harry supposed that guardians were rather similar to parents – except that they didn't love you, of course.

The only thing that had ever led to Harry doubting whether he indeed was a human was that his relatives had called him "freak" and "ungrateful urchin" ever since he could remember.

However, the classes about the human body they had had some time during fourth form had erased all lingering doubts from his mind.

Harry had never questioned the fact that he had to clean and tidy up and help Aunt Petunia in the kitchen and weed the flowerbeds (in the summer) or make sure that there wasn't any snow on the pavement in front of the house in the winter while Dudley never had to do any chores whatsoever. He had just assumed that it was because he, Harry, was an orphan.

Later, after more and more weird things had started to happen around him, Harry had begun to think that this must be what his relatives meant when calling him a freak, and that it was this weirdness that set him apart from Dudley (and perhaps even from the other kids). And so Harry had accepted that, while still being human, he was inferior to other, normal people.

#

This view of life was called into question when a giant man told him that he was a wizard.

Of course, Harry didn't believe him.

However, when the giant insisted that what he said was true and that even his parents had been wizards and that there was a whole castle full of wizards somewhere in the UK, Harry became worried. He hadn't forgotten what the teachers had told them about mad people and that they could be rather dangerous.

Harry decided that, for now, the safest course of action would be to play along and to pretend that he believed everything the giant said. So he just nodded and smiled which seemed to satisfy the man, even though he looked at him somewhat strangely when Harry assured him that he didn't have any questions.

At some point, he even gave Harry another one of those letters that were the reason why his relatives had brought him and Dudley to this shabby hut on a rock in the middle of the sea. He didn't bother to read it. It was obvious that the giant had stalked them even back at privet drive. Now Harry could understand why Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had been this upset about the letters. And now the man had even tracked them down here, in the middle of nowhere!

Secretly, Harry had hoped that the crazy giant would be gone in the morning – he had just appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the night, so why shouldn't it be possible for him to just disappear again? To his intense dismay, though, the giant was still there when Harry woke up. Even worse, he demanded that Harry had to join him to some strange alley in London.

Desperately, Harry looked at his aunt and uncle, who had come downstairs as soon as they had heard the giant's voice.

Probably to protect Dudley, Harry thought, as, judging by his screams last night, his cousin seemed to be even more afraid of the giant than Harry himself. Well, Harry supposed that if the man had threatened _him _with an umbrella, he would have screamed, too. To him, at least, the giant had been rather friendly so far.

However, it looked as if this would change soon, as his relatives didn't do anything to stop the man from taking Harry with him. He could only hope that the giant would kill him quickly. Harry didn't fancy to find out what exactly the teachers had meant when they talked about strangers who kidnapped children to touch them in weird places before killing them.

As the boat Uncle Vernon had borrowed from some man to bring them to the rock seemed to have a motor, after all, Harry timidly asked the giant to send it back to the island. Even though the Dursleys hadn't done anything when the giant had abducted him, they might still call the police once they were back at where a telephone was. It was Harry's only chance to be rescued from the giant in time.

During the train-ride, Harry wondered whether he should ask one of the other passengers for help. He didn't dare to go through with the plan, though. The giant looked as if he was strong enough to kill him with a single blow on the head.

It was only when the giant had led Harry through a hidden door that was located in the backyard of a rather shabby pub that Harry started to question his interpretation of everything that had happened during the last 12 hours.

Perhaps it wasn't the giant that was crazy but he, Harry, himself?

But then, if he _was_ crazy and only imagining people in robes, people who waved sticks and made weird things happen, not to mention shops that sold stuff that wasn't supposed to exist or boys around his age that enthused about cleaning utensils, if he only imagined everything that was happening, how was it possible that he was aware of the fact that he was seeing things? People who were crazy didn't know that what they were seeing wasn't real, did they?

Harry didn't have time to dwell on these thoughts, though, as just now the giant motioned him to go past two of the weirdest creatures Harry had ever seen – and this included all the monsters and aliens from Dudley's video games. He gave the creatures a wide berth and followed Hagrid, who was just now muttering something about goblins, through the doors. Harry had barely time to admire the enormous hall before he noticed that there were even more of those strange creatures sitting behind the counters.

Harry had always envied Dudley when Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had taken him to a funfair, but when he and the man left the bank he decided that he didn't like rollercoasters at all. Furthermore, the gold coins that were now in his pocket eroded his belief that he had gotten crazy even further and Harry couldn't help but wondering whether what the giant had told him earlier might be true. And that thought didn't reassure him at all.

While the blond boy Harry met while buying some black dresses wasn't as scary as the 'goblins' or whatever they were, the brief conversation he and Harry had left him even more confused. The blond – who had introduced himself as Malfoy Draco - really seemed to believe that he was a wizard and, from the sound of his voice, was rather proud of the fact. He then went on to complain about muggers. This was when Harry spoke up for the first time (until now, he had just nodded or shaken his head), as he knew about muggers and didn't like them either (although, admittedly, he had never met one). Malfoy Draco seemed to be rather satisfied with Harry's answer, nodding at him approvingly.

The blond boy's next statement, however, was met with a blank look and complete silence from Harry. What on earth were 'house elves'? And why would they buy the boy's school stuff?

Encouraged by their similar opinions about muggers, Harry asked the other boy about these house elves things.

"You don't know?" the blond sneered.

Harry shook his head.

"They're servants. They clean and cook and do the laundry and keep the garden and the manor tidy, and you can even send them buying the boring stuff like quills and parchment. You just have to tell them what you want them to do and they have to obey."

During his speech, Malfoy's eyes had narrowed. "Who's your family, by the way?" he asked in a low voice.

"The Dursleys..." Harry replied distractedly. The boy's description of house elves sounded awfully familiar.

Just then, the woman who had taken Harry's measurements gave him a pat on the shoulder indicating that she was finished and that he could join the giant, who was waiting outside the shop with two large ice creams.

#

Later, when he and the giant sat in the dingy pub they had come through on their way to the alley earlier, eating a meal richer than anything Harry had ever gotten before, he finally dared to ask the man whether magic was real.

"'as doub't me, eh? 'new it!" the giant chuckled.

Harry flushed.

This time, Harry listened attentively while the giant explained about magic and wizards, about Hogwarts and what he would learn there, about headmaster Dumbledore and his own position as the grounds-keeper (it was then that Harry caught the name of the giant, Rubeus Hagrid) and finally about his parents having been magical, too.

Harry objected that his parents couldn't have been magical, but when he told Hagrid about his parents having died in a car crash, the man exploded. Once he had calmed down again, Harry learnt about an evil wizard and his parents being murdered by him while he, Harry, apparently had survived.

This time, Harry didn't decline the opportunity to ask questions.

Hagrid looked slightly sick when Harry told him about Malfoy Draco's remark about muggers and how Harry had agreed with the blond. Apparently, he had misunderstood Malfoy and he hadn't talked about muggers but about non-freakish people.

After a few more questions, Harry was able to translate a few more phrases the blond had used and that had left him puzzled, such as 'Slytherin' and 'Quidditch' – which, in turn, explained magical children's obsession with brooms.

Upon Harry's enquiry whether he had at least got the term 'house elves' right (he wanted to make sure not to have misunderstood something else Malfoy had said, apart from the muggle-muggers), Hagrid mumbled something about Malfoys apparently not being completely stupid, which Harry took as an affirmation that the blond's explanation about these creatures had been correct, even though he wondered why the giant had used the plural when talking about the blond.

Hagrid then took great pains to made sure that Harry understood that house elves weren't slaves but belonged to the family and that any respectable wizard would treat them with kindness.

* * *

It was already dark when Harry arrived back at Privet Drive.

After Hagrid had answered all of his questions as well as he could, Harry had squirmed and asked whether it might be possible to go back to the book store. He was rather embarrassed that he hadn't listened properly the first time Hagrid had told him everything and that now the giant had to put up with him for even longer. However, Hagrid didn't seem to be bothered at all at having to go to Flourish&Blotts for a second time.

The Dursley's couldn't have been home for long when Harry returned, as their luggage was still in the hallway and Aunt Petunia seemed to have only just started cooking something for her son – who was sitting at the table, chewing his way through mountains of cake and ice-cream.

"You!" his Aunt snapped, "take the luggage upstairs and unpack! Then you can start doing the dishes – Dudley hasn't eaten a proper meal in ages, my poor dear, he needs plenty of food now and I'm not sure whether I have enough pots."

Harry had hoped that perhaps his relatives would be a bit friendlier now that he was a wizard, that they might not set him quite as many chores as they had before. However, during the next few days it became blatantly obvious that the opposite was true.

Each day, Harry had to get up at seven o'clock and, after a meagre breakfast, Aunt Petunia would present him with a list of the day's chores. As August continued, the tasks became more and more ridiculous and it was quite clear that the only purpose of things like mowing the lawn every second day or cleaning out the attic two times each week was to keep Harry busy.

At first, Harry had refused to do what had to be thrice as many chores as he normally did during the holidays. He quickly learnt, though, that the only option to avoid having go to bed without supper (and to get breakfast the next day) was to do every single task his Aunt had set.

Dudley, adamant about exacting revenge on his cousin for making him miss 'The Great Humberto', sabotaged Harry's work whenever he could and pushed Harry down the freshly cleaned (and therefore wet and slippery) stairs on more than one occasion. The resulting bumps and bruises made it difficult for Harry to move and his Aunt started to complain about his laziness.

Harry didn't think that getting a real bedroom had been worth the price he had to pay for it. He was constantly tired (though this might also have something to do with him reading his new books for several hours each night) and his hands were sore and inflamed from all the cleansing agents.

If the giant had been right and he was a wizard, why didn't he just stop his relatives from making his life miserable and turned them into toads?

* * *

When September 1st dawned, Harry wasn't sure whether to feel relieved that today he would escape from Privet Drive or not. Who knew whether life at Hogwarts would be any better for someone like him?

A few days ago, Harry had finally read the one book he had been dreading to open, as he had been sure that this book would confirm what, deep down, he had known all along, even though he had tried not to think about it. The book was about magical creatures, or, more precisely, about house elves.

Once Harry had started reading the book, he couldn't stop. It was as if someone had learnt everything about his, Harry's, life and put it down into writing. The chores, the cupboard, the fact that he was so much smaller than all the other boys, the cast off clothing (though at least he did have real clothes, which was more than most house elves seemed to own), the fact that he was bound to the Dursleys and couldn't leave the family, the punishments... Harry was stunned that someone could know so much about his life without having ever met him.

The only thing that he didn't understand was the issue with the clothes. According to the author of the book, the only way to sack a house elf was to give him real clothes. Now, it wasn't as if Aunt Petunia had ever _bought _clothes for Harry, but Dudley's old garments certainly had been given to him. And still they hadn't presented him with an opportunity to leave his relatives – though Harry had no idea how this was supposed to work for any house elf at all. Perhaps it had to be wizard-clothes?

The fear of being sacked most house elves seemed to have Harry could understand perfectly, though. He didn't love the Dursley's, no, certainly not, but to be completely on his own? Where should he go, what should he eat, how should he survive? Surely some chores and a few slaps now and then weren't as bad as being homeless and completely alone, were they?

It had been long after midnight when Harry had finally put the book away, careful not to make any noise that might alert his Aunt or Uncle.

So Hagrid _had _make a mistake, just as Harry had suspected. However, he hadn't been completely wrong either. The wizarding world did exists, wizards and witches existed – only that Harry wasn't one of them. Still, going to Hogwarts would provide him with the opportunity to get to know other house elves – the book had said that Hogwarts had the largest number of house elves in Britain! It couldn't hurt to see how other house elves lived and worked, could it? Perhaps Harry could learn a few tricks from them that would enable him to be hired by a different, nicer family? Or things that would allow him to fulfil the Dursley's fondest wish – not to have to see him any more? And if he didn't like it at Hogwarts, he would just return to Privet Drive.

* * *

**Next Chapter: Hogwarts Express and meeting a few well-known people**


	2. Arriving at Hogwarts

_I don't own Harry Potter_

* * *

**Arriving at Hogwarts**

#

Despite his resolve not to show how nervous he was, Harry trembled with fear when his relatives drove away, leaving him in front of the largest building Harry had ever seen. Kings Cross Station was rather busy and Harry worried that one of the many luggage vans would just crush him if he didn't move away from the entrance soon.

As fast as he could (which wasn't very fast at all, as his trunk weighed probably more than Harry himself, with all the books inside), Harry made his way to platform 9 and 10. He was still searching for platform 93/4 – which, he supposed, must be nearer to platform 10 than to platform 9, otherwise it would be platform 91/2 or 91/4 – when a large bunch of red-headed people caught his attention.

The only friend Harry had ever had had been a red-haired boy. This had been during first form, and Dudley had made it clear very quickly that Harry wasn't supposed to have any friends, but ever since those few short weeks when Harry had had someone who stayed with him during breaks and helped him to avoid his cousin and his chums, he suspected that red-headed people were nicer than normal ones.

Thus he decided that what looked to be a whole family full of red-heads were the right people to ask for the strange platform. Of course, the fact that the woman was just now saying something about those non-freakish muggers the giant and the blond boy had told him about had something to do with his decision as well.

The red-haired woman was just as nice as Harry had hoped for. However, she seemed to be in quite a hurry and motioned him to run against the wall before Harry had a chance to ask whether this method of entering the platform would work for house elves, too.

Not daring to disturb her further, Harry turned around and started to push his trolley towards the barrier. Faster and faster he went, he was almost at the wall now and... – Harry pressed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the unyielding stones – BAAHM!

The trolley fell over, Harry stumbled, lost his balances and landed on top of it, the handlebars knocking the breath out of him. When he opened his eyes, all what he saw was red.

Then, he heard a laughter from somewhere behind him.

"You know, you need to stop running once you have crossed the barrier," a voice said.

"Yeah, ' don't think they'll appreciate it if a tiny firsty destroyed the Express," another voice snickered.

"Need some help getting up?" that was the first voice again.

Harry blinked, rearranged his glasses and looked up. Apparently, he had also hit his head when falling over his trolley, as he saw the same boy twice.

Not knowing what to make of the still-grinning boy, Harry looked around for the first time since the crash and noticed that it hadn't been the barrier between platform 9 and 10 he had run into but a bright red train that hadn't been there before. Then, his eyes fell on a sign that clearly red "Platform 93/4". He had made it!

"So, ehm, need a hand, then?"

Harry gasped when suddenly both the real boy and the copy he was seeing grabbed his trolley and pulled it upright again. "You- you are real, then? Both of you?" he blurted out.

"Yes, I suppose we are – George, what do you think?"

"Well, Fred, I'm not so sure, you have always seemed a bit too much like me to be real."

Completely bewildered, Harry looked at the two boys who continued their bickering. If the train he had run into was the Hogwart-Express (and the lettering clearly said so) than these two boys – Fred and George, when their argument wasn't completely staged - surely had to be... "You're _wizards_!"

The bickering stopped and the two boys stared at Harry as if he had lost his mind.

An awkward silence fell. Finally, Fred and George helped Harry to tow his luggage into the train and, after they had given him a last, curious gaze, they left. From his seat in a compartment at the end of the train, Harry could see that they joined the family of red-heads he had asked how to enter the platform, talking animatedly. Their gestures made it clear who (or rather what) the topic of their conversation was.

Harry knew that he shouldn't have been so surprised to meet wizards. It wasn't as if he hadn't met any of them before. It was only that the day in Diagon Alley, he hadn't really believed that what the giant had told him was true and as result, he hadn't believed the blond boy either. So to all intents and purposes, the brief conversation he had just had with the two boys had been Harry's first real encounter with that type of human being most house elves served.

He supposed that Fred and George were around 13 or 14, which meant that they must be students at Hogwarts, and thus two of Harry's future masters. He could only hope that they would give him a chance to prove that he wasn't normally as clumsy as he had been today, that he wouldn't break their stuff while cleaning it or ruining their clothes by washing them at the wrong temperature.

* * *

Several people came into Harry's compartment during the train-ride.

At first, another one of the red-haired boys, who introduced himself as Ron Weasley, asked whether he could sit with Harry because everywhere else was full. Harry nodded and quickly looked away again. Although he had read an entire book about creatures like him, he still wasn't sure how you were supposed to act in front of a master. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Ron Weasley started to talk about funny-sounding houses and quiches. Well, his pronunciation was strange and it sounded more like "quiddiches" but Harry was quite sure that he meant quiches- there wasn't something like quiddiches, after all.

The boys obvious love for quiches led to Harry making a mental note to bake them as often as possible – his Aunt had made sure that he knew how to cook and bake various dishes so it shouldn't be a problem.

After a while, though, the boy seemed no longer satisfied with Harry only listening to his ramblings and started to demand answers to various questions. Most of these questions Harry didn't even understand, and Ron started to look at him just as the two identical boys had after Harry had asked whether they were wizards.

When Ron wanted to know what his favourite quiche was, Harry was glad that finally he would be able to answer a question. "Quiche Lorraine, though I didn't get to taste it very often. Dudley usually eats even more of it than from other meals." After a few moments of deliberation Harry decided that he would risk asking a question himself. "What's your favourite quiche, Master Ron?"

Ron gave him a bewildered look before he mumbled something about having to search for his brothers, pulled his trunk from the luggage rack and fled from the compartment.

'Stupid Harry!' the now lonely boy chided himself silently. 'You know better than to ask questions!'

Yes, it had been really stupid of him to assume that only because the boy kept asking Harry things Harry would be allowed to do the same. Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and even his book had taught him that it was not acceptable for a house elf to ask any questions at all. You had to obey and keep silent and only speak when your master had asked you something.

He could only hope that making quiches every day would mollify Master Ron.

#

Next, the blond boy from Diagon Alley came to Harry's compartment. Two rather bulky boys, looking similar to Dudley, accompanied him.

The blond – Malfoy, Harry reminded himself, or rather Master Malfoy now that Harry knew that he was a house elf while the blond was a wizard (the book had been very clear in this regard) – sneered at Harry.

"No one is sitting with the mudblood, then?" Malfoy Draco drawled.

Harry just looked at him blankly, not knowing what the boy was referring to.

"Yes, I have asked my father – he has never heard of a wizarding family called Dursley, and he knows practically everyone in the wizarding world, well, the important people, at least," Draco smirked, "therefore, you must either be a mudblood or a half blood from one of the less respected families."

From the tone of his voice, Harry suspected that this must be something bad. He kept silent, though, as just now Master Malfoy looked at him appraisingly.

"However," Malfoy continued, "you said that you don't like muggles either. So perhaps you aren't as bad as most mudbloods are... yes, my father told me that some mudbloods can be quite useful to our cause, that they can show lunatics like Dumbledore what scum muggles really are. Yes..." he kept looking at Harry in a way that the latter found half-amusing, half-frightening. It was as if the blond tried very hard to imitate someone else' expression but wasn't really sure how to do it.

"As I said, I'm not completely opposed to an allegiance between the two of us. Of course, you will always be inferior to me and you cannot expect me to treat you as if you were an equal. But if you behave appropriately, I might help you to avoid the fate most mudbloods awaits."

Harry swallowed. If he had understood the blond correctly, he meant that he would be nice to Harry if Harry was a really good house elf and didn't make any mistakes. Harry wasn't so sure he would succeed – he didn't yet know how a good house elf had to behave, after all - but he would certainly try. "Yes, Master Malfoy," he finally whispered.

Draco's eyes widened comically and he gave Harry an appreciative nod before he and the two other boys, who had stayed silent through their entire conversation, left.

#

Late in the afternoon, yet another future master – or rather mistress – visited Harry.

"Have you seen a toad?" the girl asked in a rather bossy voice. "Neville has lost his!"

Harry shook his head.

"Oh, well, if you happen to see it, please inform me or Neville immediately. We have been searching for _hours_ already. Well, you better change now, we will be arriving soon and you cannot enter Hogwarts in these clothes!" she pointed at Dudley's cast-offs Harry was wearing.

Harry, well able to recognize a direct order when he heard one, started to undress as soon as the girl had finished her little speech. For a few seconds, he couldn't see anything, but when he pulled the much too large jumper over his head, the now-blushing girl was looking at him scandalized.

"I didn't mean it literary when I said 'now', you know," she mumbled before turning around, slamming shut the door and leaving. Harry didn't even have time to apologize.

Shrugging, he continued to undress before opening his trunk and searching for one of his plain, black robes. He wasn't sure that this was the proper attire for a house elf but he didn't want to get in trouble for wearing muggle clothes either. He hoped that the other house elves would provide him with something more suitable to wear. It wouldn't do for him to walk around dressed like one of his masters!

* * *

When he no longer heard any noises, Harry peeked out of his compartment. Once he was certain that the students had all left the train, Harry gripped his trunk (he didn't think the rule 'leave your luggage on the Express' applied to house elves) and headed for the exit.  
In the distance, he could see several carriages driving away and at the other end of the platform, a huge black mass that had a single lantern bouncing in front of it moved towards a few trees and finally vanished.

Harry was at a loss for what to do. How was he supposed to find his new workplace? Hogwarts was supposed to be a castle, but he couldn't see anything remotely similar to such a thing! 'You mustn't panic,' he told himself. There had to be a way to find this school!

Then, he heard a soft snorting directly behind him. A squeak escaped his lips when something touched his shoulder. Something _warm. _

Slowly, Harry turned around. And gaped. Briefly, he wondered whether he had gone insane, but quickly abandoned this thought in favour of gaping some more. Never in all his life had he seen (or even _imagined_) a creature like this.

"Uhm... ehm, hey... I'm Harry..." he offered.

The dragonhorse didn't answer - not that Harry had expected it to do – quite the contrary, actually. He was rather glad that it _didn't_ answer!

It was then that Harry noticed the carriage behind the dragonhorse. "Uhm, would... I mean, do you think you could bring me to Hogwarts? I'm supposed to start working there today, but I don't really know how to go there..." he trailed of, waiting for any kind of reaction.

The dragonhorse snorted some more before it turned its head and looked at the carriage. Then, it looked at Harry again.

"Uhm, I think this means yes, then?" Harry was still unsure. He didn't want to offend a creature like this – he was unsure whether he would survive it.

It was only when the dragonhorse poked his shoulder quite forcefully, then looked at the cart again and finally biting in the handle of Harry's trunk, lifting it off the ground as if it wasn't filled with tons of books and clothes but completely weightless that Harry dared to climb into the carriage. As soon as he had sat down, the carriage started to move.

When Harry's odd taxi passed two pillars that seemed to belong to some sort of gate, Harry craned his neck. When there was a gate there certainly had to be... "WOAH!" he exclaimed.

Directly in front of him, there was a building at least ten times as big as Kings Cross Station. Thousands of tiny golden lights that had to be windows illuminated the otherwise dark mass. It was a sight so beautiful that Harry couldn't do much else than gaping, even when the carriage stopped.

After what had to be at least five minutes, Harry snuffled and declared to no one in particular, "I'm sooo glad I'm allowed to work here."

#

It took him more than ten minutes to drag his trunk up the many stairs that led to the entrance door. Just when he had entered a hall larger than the Dursley's entire house, a door to his left opened and a stern voice said, "... follow me!"

Quickly, Harry hid in a dark alcove. He didn't want to start his career at Hogwarts by angering his new masters. Aunt Petunia would have had a fit if she had found Harry standing in the corridor, staring into space and lazing about. Hopefully, whoever it was (and it seemed to be more than one person, if the excited whispering was anything to go by) wouldn't notice his trunk. A tall woman in a dark-green robe came out of a room, followed by thirty or forty children.

Harry's heart sank when the woman's eyes fell on his trunk and a frown appeared on her face. He prayed that she wouldn't take it. Everything Harry owned was in this trunk, but he knew that, if she took it, he wouldn't dare to ask whether he could have it back. Doing so would both violate the most important rule – don't ask questions! – and certainly make him appear greedy. After all, Harry wasn't even sure that he was entitled to owning books and robes and his old blanket.

When the group of humans left the hall through a large door Harry sighed with relief. Quickly, he grabbed his trunk and hurried to the nearest corridor, hopefully avoiding further people that might join the woman and the children into the brightly lit hall. Once he had reached a comparatively dark part of the corridor, Harry stopped, trying to catch his breath. The trunk was heavy! What should he do now?

Well, first of all, he needed to find a place where he could store his trunk while exploring the castle and searching for his new colleagues, he decided. There had to be flocks of house elf at Hogwarts, surely it couldn't be too difficult to find a single one and ask it about where the quarters of the staff were located and where exactly Harry should work. He would fetch his stuff once he knew where to store it permanently – he would never manage to move around unnoticed by his masters (which was the second most important rule) if he had to drag the trunk with him.

Fortunately, the castle had more than enough broom cupboards, closets and curtain-covered alcoves. Harry stored his trunk in an empty cupboard at a dead end of a corridor, next to a flight of stairs that led even deeper into the dungeons and a portrait of a creature similar to that one that had drawn Harry's carriage. When he closed the door, he briefly worried whether this was safe enough. However, the soft, tingling sensation he felt when he touched the door-handle convinced him that this was the right place for his trunk. The cupboard was even big enough that Harry himself would fit in, too, if he didn't find a place to sleep tonight.

#

It was a good thing that Harry had chosen such a spacious cupboard for him and his trunk, as he would indeed spend the night there.

During his first evening at Hogwarts, he had several close calls with inhabitants of the castle. Harry had almost made his way back to the vast entrance hall and was deliberating where he should go next when he heard a large group of people approaching. The cheerful voices grew louder and louder and all his hopes that they wouldn't choose this of all corridors vanished when a tall, dark figure came around the corner.

Harry held his breath and tried his hardest to merge with the wall.

"This way," a dark voice said, "the Slytherin common room is even deeper down in the dungeons than the kitchen." Harry stored the information away for later.

Miraculously, the group of people passed the corner where Harry stood pressed against the wall without anybody noticing him – at least this was what Harry deduced from the fact that nobody had addressed him, he hadn't exactly looked at the humans' faces. Seemed as if the black robes were good for something, after all. If he hadn't been dressed in black or even only had had blond hair he doubted that his attempt to pretend to be a wall would have been successful.

When the noises from the entrance hall had died down, Harry tiptoed around the corner and peeked into the large, open space. Directly across from him was an enormous, white marble staircase that seemed to lead to the upper parts of the castle. Deciding to postpone exploring this area of the castle, Harry sneaked across the hall, careful to stay close to the walls. It was the door that led into the brightly lit room the woman and the children had gone into earlier that had attracted his attention.

Harry couldn't help gasping when he entered the most magnificent, wondrous room he had ever seen in is life. Briefly, he wondered what the humans did when it was raining, as the room didn't have a ceiling. But then, his eyes fell on the tables and all thoughts about how uncomfortable it must be to eat while become wetter and wetter vanished. There was still food on the tables! And not just any food – pudding! Harry had never been allowed to have pudding while staying with his relatives and now, he could chose from five tables full of the most delicious sweets he had ever seen!

Not sure when the remains of what had clearly been a great feast would be cleared away, Harry didn't waste any time and started noshing immediately. With any luck, he would even meet some of his fellow house elves, as surely they were responsible for cleaning up the mess the students and teachers had left behind.

Half an hour later, though, still no house elf had appeared. Harry, who had started to feel uncomfortably full halfway through his fourth slice of treacle tart, decided that if he didn't go back to his cupboard now, he would fall asleep right here under one of the tables.

It was much more difficult to move stealthily now that his stomach was full of pudding and a weird type of orange juice and just when he had reached the corridor that led to his new cupboard, he couldn't suppress a loud burp any longer. Unfortunately, it was just then that two pairs of feet hurried through the entrance hall behind Harry. When Harry burped, the feet stopped.

"You don't happen to have hired a new elf during the summer, Albus? If you have, you might want to remind them of their manners." the same dark voice that Harry had heard saying something about a slithering common room and the kitchen earlier asked.

"I have, actually," another voice answered, "some of the older elves have become too unreliable during the last few years. I offered them paid retirement, but you know how they are..." the man sighed. "Anyway, when Mr Filch came to me in May and complained about a house elf trying to clean the floor with a mixture of honey and pumpkin juice I decided that I needed to look for a few new elves soon. And of course, the incident last June when the Hufflepuff-table was served boiled underpants from the Ravenclaws for lunch only highlighted the necessity to search for new employees. But why do you ask, Severus?"

"It's nothing. One of them seemed to have gotten lost and was hiding in a dark corner next to the staircase down to the Slytherin common room earlier. Seems to have found his way now, though, I looked for it on my way back up here. Well, it's not as if it is all that difficult to find the kitchen and the elves' quarters from there on, just down the stairs and down the corridor..." he trailed off.

The other voice chuckled. "I'm amazed you haven't hexed the poor elf. A creature hiding in a dark corner?"

"It wouldn't do to startle the first-years on their first evening in the castle," the dark voice sounded rather snarky, "and it's not as if it could have been something dangerous, or couldn't it, Albus?"

"No, no, of course not, Severus, there is no need to worry."

The voices trailed off when the two men they belonged to climbed the stairs and vanished in one of the upper parts of the castle.

* * *

**Next Chapter: Harry searches for his colleagues **


	3. One Mirror, two Elves

_I don't own Harry Potter and don't make any money with this fiction_

_Currently, I'm not really good at writing regularly - I hope this will change once I have finished my exams in about three weeks, but I cannot promise anything. I really hate it, not being able to write the way I want to..._

_Both Finwitch1 and a guest have wondered about whether the teachers won't miss Harry - they will, and the issue will be addressed in one of the following chapters (that part is already written, actually). They will start looking for him and everything, though I haven't yet decided when Harry will be discovered. _

* * *

**One Mirror, two Elves**

#

The next morning, Harry woke up from the sound of hundreds of hungry students hurrying towards the great hall for breakfast – or at least this was what Harry deduced from the trampling noise. Yawning, he stretched his limbs and finally got up from the nest of jumpers, shirts and trousers he had built yesterday. He hadn't wanted to crumple his nice new robes which had already helped him not to violate the second most important rule, so he had left them in his trunk.

Shivering slightly, he opened the door of his cupboard. First of all, he needed to find a bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, Harry was silently cursing the much-too-large castle. He was quite sure that even though they were wizards, the inhabitants of Hogwarts had to use toilets and stuff, too, so there _had _to be bathrooms. But although he had opened (or, in some cases, tried to open) what had to be 50 doors already Harry hadn't found a single loo. If he didn't find one soon...

Finally, when it was almost too late, Harry descended the stairs that led to the slithering common room and it was at the base of the staircase that he found it - a glorious, wonderful bathroom.

When he had emptied his bladder, he went to the sink to wash his hands. Just when he was about to turn away again in order to resume his search for his new colleagues, a snappish voice called, "Comb your hair, ragamuffin!"

Harry whirled around. "What?" he asked, and when he didn't spot anyone who could have addressed him he added "Uhm, hello?"

"Impolite as well, I see," the same voice spoke. Harry twisted around and even looked into the stall he had just vacated – he couldn't possible have overlooked someone, could he? But then, he had been in quite a hurry to get his trousers down in time and hadn't exactly paid attention to his surroundings.

"Who are you? _Where_ are you?" Harry asked once he was sure that he hadn't missed a hidden wizard or – and he blushed from the mere thought of it – a _witch._

"Not the brightest one, are you?"

This time, instead of looking for a person or any other creature with an almost human voice, Harry concentrated on the direction the voice was coming from. Whatever it was, it must be somewhere near the sink...

"Now, I don't like repeating myself, but I will make an exception for you just this once. Comb. Your. Hair."

"Are you the _mirror?" Harry _blurted out, flabbergasted.

"What else, you nitwit?" the voice sounded rather cross by now.

"But – but-" Harry stammered, not at all sure what he wanted say. That mirrors weren't supposed to talk? How anything without a mouth _could_ talk? Why a mirror bothered about how Harry looked when his very own family hadn't cared about it? "I don't have a comb," he finally mumbled.

"Hmpf," the mirror replied, and suddenly, a comb appeared on the rim of the sink.

Naturally, Harry only stared at it.

"What are you waiting for?" the mirror demanded.

Carefully, Harry approached the sink. It really seemed to be an ordinary comb. When he reached out to take it, he hesitated for a few moments, his hand hovering over the innocent-looking item. He felt the same kind of tingling sensation he had felt yesterday when making sure that the door to his cupboard was safely locked. The tingling didn't seem to be hostile, though, quite the contrary, Harry thought it felt really nice. Therefore, he decided that he could risk touching the comb.

When nothing out of the ordinary happened once he had touched it, Harry felt almost disappointed.

"What?" that was the mirror again, "not good enough for you? I'm only a mirror, you know, if you want to have some high-quality brush you need to ask someone else."

"How come you can make a comb appear out of nowhere?" Harry asked curiously.

"Well, I'm a mirror, am I not? Of course I can produce combs for messy little wizards like you!" Harry was sure that the mirror would have sneered if it had had a face.

"I'm not a wizard," Harry murmured, too quiet for the mirror to hear. Then, a thought struck him and his expression brightened up. "So, uhm, can you perhaps make food appear as well? Treacle tart, perhaps?" Harry asked rather eagerly. His stomach gave a rather loud grumble as if to emphasize the importance of Harry's question.

"I'm a _mirror, _you chump!"

"Oh, ehm, I suppose that means no, then?" Harry asked unsurely.

"You really should take great care not to open your mouth in the presence of Professor Snape, you know. He cannot stand imbeciles and you seem to be particularly slow. But then, since you are down here you must be a Slytherin yourself, so perhaps the Professor won't be too stern with you... Anyway, you can tell your little housemates that I don't care that they prefer the bathroom next to their common room, oh no! I don't care that these little snots think that only mirrors with at least a golden frame are worthy of showing them their reflection – and I'm not jealous of this stupid git of a mirror in that pompous bathroom down the corridor, oh no, you can tell them that! I wonder why you actually have the audacity to enter this bathroom and disturb my peace – if you think I need your pity you are quite wrong! Now, why don't you hurry along and join your spoiled, whiny little classmates-"

The mirror would probably have rambled on for quite some time if Harry hadn't interrupted it. "I'm not a student! I'm a house elf!" he said indignantly.

"Of course you are, and I'm Joanne K. Rowling," the mirror snorted.

"Who?" Harry asked curiously. He felt as if he should know the name...

"Don't read very much, do you? Anyway, you're certainly not a house elf!"

"Of course I am!" Harry insisted, "I'm the new house elf, and I really need to find my colleagues. You don't happen to know where the staff's quarters are?"

"Well, most of the time the house elves are in the kitchen, except for the nights, of course, when they clean the castle. The kitchens are just down the corridor, there is an entrance for teachers and students behind one of the portraits – well, actually it's meant to be only for teachers, not that anybody cares – but the house elves don't use this one, naturally. They use the one through the broom cupboard next to the statue of Emmy the Eviscerated Elf – have never understood why they have put such a statue next to the entrance, well, they're barmy, that lot. But anyway, you aren't a house elf so I shouldn't have told you- hey, come back! I'm not finished! You uncivilised, disobliging brat!"

#

Harry had beamed at the friendly mirror when it explained in detail where he would find the entrance to the kitchen, where he would not only find his colleagues but hopefully get breakfast as well. Excited as he was, he didn't even wait for the mirror to finish but ran out of the room as soon as it had mentioned the gross statue. It couldn't be difficult to find a figure like this.

Sure enough, Harry found the statue and the broom cupboard next to it in less than five minutes. Taking a deep breath, he knocked.

Nothing happened.

Patiently, Harry waited for almost two minutes, but when still no sound could be heard from the other side of the door, he hesitantly tried the handle. He didn't want to appear rude by just barging into the kitchen but he didn't want to be even later than he already was, either.

The inside of the broom cupboard looked just like an empty broom cupboard would look like, but there, in the left corner, was a door barely as high as Harry. Looked as if he was a particularly large house elf, then.

Again, he knocked and this time, it took only about ten seconds until someone answered the door. Harry stood up straighter when the door slowly opened. He desperately hoped that they would forgive him for being late and not send him back to the Dursley's immediately. He rather liked the castle and really looked forward to cleaning such a beautiful place. It was so much better than cleaning the boring house of his relatives!

"Wha- what can Wimpy do for Master?" the house elf who had opened the door squeaked.

Harry gapped. The creature – a house elf, obviously – didn't look like him at all. It had large, pointy ears, enormous eyes and a snout. Compared to the size of its body, the elf's head was much larger than Harry's and the creature was more than a foot shorter than him.

His shoulders slumped. And here he had thought that finally he had found other beings like him, somewhere he belonged. But apparently, he had been wrong. He wasn't a house elf. However, he wasn't a wizard either, that much he knew for sure. A freak like him couldn't be a wizard. Wizards didn't have to do chores the entire day as Harry had done his entire life, wizards weren't practically slaves for their respective family, wizards could leave their family whenever they wanted since they already had wizarding clothes, wizards could make things happen while Harry couldn't.

Before Harry could dwell further on these depressive thought, a thought struck him. Or rather, he remembered a paragraph from the book about house elves he had read._ 'The physical appearance of house elves varies greatly so that an attempt to distinguish a house elf from other, similar magical beings such as wood elves, goblins and many other creatures only by means of appearance is bound to fail. The most striking feature all house elves have in common is their complete and utter subservience. As no other known magical being has a similar trade of character, it is the most fool-proved way to differentiate between the different species.'_

But this meant it didn't matter how Harry looked! He was still a house elf, even though he looked different than – what had been its name? "Uhm, I'm sorry, but what was your name again?" Harry asked politely.

"Wimpy, Master Sir."

"Hello Wimpy, I'm Harry. I'm the new elf. I was meant to start yesterday but I only arrived in the evening and then I didn't find anyone of you and the letter that told me that I had gotten the job was rather vague – well, I'm really sorry, I hope my tardiness hasn't caused any problems..." Harry trailed off when he noticed that Wimpy was staring at him wide-eyed. Well, even wider-eyed than what seemed to be normal for the elf with the extraordinary large eyes.

"Wimpy elf, you Master," the elf finally squeaked, its voice even higher than it had been before.

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm a house elf, too. I know I look different than you, but I really am an elf. Not all elves look the same, you know, I have read a book about us, and even wizards know that we look different."

Wimpy shook its head desperately. "Master wizard, Sir, no elf! Wimpy elf, but no Master!"

Harry sighed silently. This was getting rather complicated. But then, he couldn't really hold it against Wimpy that he (or she? Harry wasn't sure) didn't believe him that he, Harry, was an elf, too. Just a few minutes ago, Harry himself had doubted whether he was a house elf, and Harry had read a book on elves! And if Wimpy's grammar was anything to go by, he hadn't read much during his life, if at all. Harry knew that this happened to some elves, that their family didn't care about the elf's education. At least the Dursley's had allowed him to attend primary school.

"Perhaps you could take me to the head-elf so that we can clear up this misunderstanding?" Harry asked.

"Wimpy can do this, yes, Wi- Wimpy can," the elf nodded fiercely.

And without further ado, Wimpy took Harry's hand and pulled him through the door into an enormous kitchen. Curiously, Harry looked around. Four long tables stood in the middle of the room and a fifth one was placed perpendicular to the other four at the far end of the room. Actually, it looked rather similar to the great hall were he had found all that pudding.

Wimpy led Harry through the entire kitchen and so the boy had plenty of opportunities to see other house elves at work. When he passed them, many of his future colleagues looked up from their work. As soon as their eyes fell on Harry, they started gaping. Harry smiled and waved at them, but this seemed only to increase the gaping.

To Harry's great displeasure, he noticed that most elves looked similar to Wimpy. Apparently, whoever was responsible for hiring new elves had a penchant for this particular type of elves. Harry wondered why they had now taken him, a completely different kind of elf. Perhaps the wizard who had chosen all the other elves had retired? Or there might be a new law that forced Hogwarts to employ different types of elves. He knew that there were similar laws amongst normal human beings, he had heard Uncle Vernon complaining about having to hire someone called 'Paki' who was, at least in Uncle Vernon's opinion, similar to Harry. Dimly, Harry wondered whether he should ask if Paki could come to Hogwarts as well...

Just then, however, his thoughts were interrupted by Wimpy's high-pitched voice again. "Just knock on the door, Master Harry Sir, Bossy call you in then." and with that, the elf quickly hurried away, back to work.

Taking a deep breath, Harry did as he was told. He could only hope that the head-elf was more knowledgeable about the various looks of house elves.

#

"Enter!" a raspy voice, slightly deeper than Wimpy's but still rather high, called.

"Good morning, Sir, I'm Harry, the new elf. I was supposed to start yesterday. I'm sorry I'm a day late, it was kind of hard to find the right place, I have never worked in a castle and all the corridors and doors and cupboards are kind of confusion. But well, I'm here now, and I really hope I haven't caused any difficulties." Nervously, Harry – who had, until know, spoken more to his feet than to Bossy – eyed the head-elf. He, too, looked similar to Wimpy, except that he didn't seem to have any ears at all. Though it was quite possible that they were hidden somewhere amongst all his hair that seemed to sprout from the entire elf's head, Harry supposed. Even his eyes were barely visible. He seemed to be really old and his skin was several sizes too big for him.

"The new elf? Then Professor Dumbledore... all right, yes, I see... but you're not an elf – are you?"

Harry got the distinct impression that Bossy had difficulties comprehending what was going on. Perhaps he was one of the elves the man he had overheard yesterday had spoken about?

"Yes, I am," Harry stated firmly. He knew that it wasn't really fair to take advantage of the old elf's confusion, but if it meant that he was less likely to be sent back to the Dursleys, Harry was all right with this. He didn't want to go back to the place where he didn't have any contact with other elves, where he would be all alone again and being made feel like a freak. He simply _had _to stay in the castle!

"So, ehm, but you look... you not Master, then?" Bossy sounded doubtful, but not as much as Wimpy had. Harry took this as a good sign.

"Uhm, well, I might look a bit different, I know, but I'm not a wizard or even a normal person. I have worked for a family until know, but then I got the invitation to work at Hogwarts and I accepted."

Bossy gave him a bleary look before he began to sort through a pile of paper that lay on the desk in front of him. He got more and more frantic when he didn't seem to find what he was looking for and papers started to fly across the entire room. Finally, the elf gave up and turned his gaze to Harry again.

"Well, ehm, then, if Master Professor Dumbledore tell you to work at Hogwarts, I sure everything be right. Though you really look like..." the elf's gaze became unfocused again and he stared right through Harry. Unnerved by his boss's eyes, Harry started to fidget, which seemed to bring Bossy out of his musings again. "Yes, then... you need a place and - what work be you good in?"

Harry straightened up. This was easy, his relatives had taught him well. "I'm really good at cooking, dusting, sweeping, moping, doing the laundry and cleaning bathrooms. I don't need much space either – a cupboard would be plenty!"

"Good, then, this be very good, yes. You work with cleaning elves, then, we be too plenty in kitchen already. Wimpy show you elf quarters now, you need to sleep at day. You cannot clean while students around – this be very important, do not forget, no, no! Very important, yes, very important..." again, Bossy stopped speaking in favour of staring into nothingness – which was better than staring at him, Harry thought.

The door behind Harry opened and he whirled around. The head-elf must have some means to call his subordinates, as it was Wimpy who had opened the door and was just now asking Bossy what he could do for him.

"Show new elf elf quarters for cleaning elves. And feedroom, too, yes."

Wimpy looked at Bossy doubtfully but nodded. "Wimpy do this." she turned to Harry. "Mas- Harry follow Wimpy, please. We go to elf quarters."

Harry nodded eagerly. After a quick good-bye to the head-elf (which the latter didn't seem to register at all), he followed Wimpy out of the room.

* * *

**Next Chapter: Moving into the elves' quarters, clothes and a really, _really _strange elf named Hildy.**


End file.
